


Keep You by My Side

by WrongRemedy



Series: Right Hand Frat [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dirty Talk, Domesticity, F/M, Oral Sex, Possessive George, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongRemedy/pseuds/WrongRemedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The George/Martha porn you didn't get to see in "Hips Don't Lie (But Tongues Do)", and the run-in with Laf and John from "Move Along" from George and Martha's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You by My Side

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you to Sarah for letting me play in her sandboxes and do terrible things to her muses all the time. 
> 
> Title from "Butterfly" by Crazy Town because she texted me out of the blue to ask me if I agreed that it's totally an RHF George/Martha kind of song. Spoiler alert: I did agree.

George Washington is really rather fond of John Laurens. Granted, he hasn’t known him for very long, but what he does know of him is all good, he and his friends have been great throughout the recruitment process and are shaping up to make good additions to the house, and he seems to be making Lafayette very happy. So yeah, overall, George has absolutely no problems with John. Currently, with John stripped down to his underwear and grinding his hips very close to George’s girlfriend while both of their Greek houses cheer him on, George is having to remind himself of all the reasons why he does like John, and why he doesn’t want to kill him despite what George’s pronounced possessive streak is telling him.

It’s not exactly helping that Martha, the love of his life and yet another person that George doesn’t want to kill, won’t stop staring at him over John’s shoulder and smirking like she knows exactly what George is thinking. She’s been goading him on about this since the second she found out about it – sending him texts musing on what she should wear to “make herself pretty for Laurens”, trying to get George to tell her in advance what song John would be dancing to, and generally doing everything in her power to make sure that George had to spend the trip around to all the sorority houses thinking about some other guy getting all up in Martha’s space while George has to stand on the other side of the room, not allowed to do anything at all about it. And then, just before the dance started, Martha had one of her sisters announce that John’s little performance would be dedicated to himself and Laf, Martha and John’s respective significant others. She’d tossed him a smirk as the sister in question informed the room of that, and George had concentrated very hard on breathing deeply and plastering on a smile.

Now, he watches as Martha tugs on John’s hair and mutters something to him that makes John blush, though her words are too quiet for anyone else to hear over the music and the cheering. He and Martha have discussed the idea of a casual threesome several times, sometimes during sex and sometimes in less…distracted moments. Watching John throw himself at Martha is putting George in a mind to claim, like he wants to show everyone in the room that the woman in that chair is _his_ , no matter how close any other people may get to her. But he also has to admit that watching Martha talk to John, pull his hair, and generally do what she wants with him just for the fun of it is kind of turning him on. He feels himself swaying forward involuntarily, only stopping himself from going over there, pulling John away from Martha, swinging her over his shoulder and carrying her off like a damn caveman because he realizes through his haze of possessive arousal that one of the girls has a hand on his arm. He turns his head to see one of Martha’s giggling, obviously slightly tipsy sorority sisters holding out the shirt that John had thrown into the crowd a few minutes before.

“Thought you might want to be the one to give this back to him,” she laughs, and wanders away back to the other side of the room after George takes the clothing from her hand.

The song ends soon after that, with Martha still making faces at George from over John’s shoulder right up until the last strain of music fades out. George notes that John scrambles off of Martha as quickly as possible once the song is over, and he helps her up in the most gentlemanly way he can manage with most of his clothes off, which scores him several points in the “probably not going to have to suffer George’s wrath today” category. George joins his voice in with his brothers as they sing their traditional chants to the girls and watches as Laf makes their way over to give John his pants. George lets them have a moment together – he’s all too familiar with the look in Laf’s eyes, it’s one George knows he gives Martha pretty frequently – before making his own way over and clapping a hand on John’s shoulder with just enough force to make him jump a little. When John looks up at him, George smiles.

“You ever touch my girl like that again without involving me too, you’re dead, Laurens,” he says, and isn’t sure whether he’s more amused or gratified by the slight genuine fear he sees in John’s eyes at that statement. “Regardless of how much Laf likes you,” he adds, catching Laf’s eye and winking before walking away. He doesn’t have to look very hard to find Martha, she’s standing alone near the doorway while the rest of her sisters and his brothers are gathered towards the middle, singing and talking. He makes his way over to her quickly, taking advantage of everyone’s attention being turned to John in order to slip through the crowd as close to unnoticed as someone of his size can be. When he gets to her, she slinks around the corner and into the hallway, and he follows close at her heels.

“If we hurry,” he says, spinning her around and pressing her back against the wall, crowding in close to her while their houses continue to chatter loudly on the other side of the doorway, “we can make it back to my room before the rest of the guys come back to the house.”

Martha tips her hips out away from the wall, shifting herself against him a little until he shudders. She smirks. “Your new members aren’t going to have a meeting after this?” she asks teasingly.

“Not one that I have to go to,” he responds, wrapping an arm around her and sliding his hand down to the small of her back.

“You want to be President of the house, George,” she reminds him. “Shouldn’t you be there to introduce yourself to them at their first meeting?”

“I guarantee you George Frederick won’t even show up to that meeting,” he scoffs. “If the current President doesn’t have to go, they sure as hell aren’t going to care if I’m there or not.”

He dips his head down and licks at her neck, biting a little just to get her breath to catch. “Now, you gonna leave with me or what? ‘Cuz we’re runnin’ out of time here, darlin’” he whispers in her ear.

“Let’s go,” she responds quickly, pushing at his chest. George rumbles a laugh and takes her hand, and they make the walk from her house to his possibly faster than they ever have in their lives.

They race up the stairs when they get there, Martha backing up the first few and crooking her finger at him with a smirk, and then shrieking and breaking into a run when the provocation prompts George to growl and chase after her. He catches up with her just before she makes it to his bedroom door and crowds up behind her – has her laughing as they make it into the room and gasping as soon as the door slams behind them because he’s immediately got his hands up under her shirt, shoving her bra up so he can cup her breasts and squeeze a little, thumbs rubbing over the little bars pierced through her nipples while he presses his hips up against her ass just enough to let her feel him.

“George,” she gasps out, squirming against him. He grinds forward a little, leaning down again to the spot on her neck he bit at her house earlier and sinking his teeth in. He’s going to leave a mark there if it kills him, and it’s going to be high enough up for everyone to see.

“Yes, darlin’?” he finally responds, licking up towards her ear once he’s satisfied that he’s done with the spot on her neck. Martha turns her head towards him, gets close like she’s trying to kiss him over her shoulder but voices a request instead.

“Get me out of these clothes now,” Martha breathes out, and though she phrases it like a command, there’s a pleading edge to her voice that hits George’s baser instincts and makes him want to growl.

He moves his hands away from her breasts, sliding them down and around over her sides and hips, then moving up her back without ever taking them out from underneath her shirt or going out of contact with her skin. He examines the back of the shirt, an old sorority event tee that Martha’s made into a crop top and cut holes and slits into all up the back so that her bra and skin are always exposed when she wears it. Martha reaches up a hand to pull all of her hair over one shoulder, exposing the neckline of the shirt to him, and George makes a decision. He pulls his hands out from underneath her shirt, reaching up to the neckline and pulling so that each of the little strings still barely holding the shirt together all rip down the middle, starting at the top and moving down until it’s hanging off her shoulders and her whole back is exposed. Martha gasps but doesn’t complain, and George reaches around to pull at the front of the shirt until it slides off her arms and falls to the floor. He doesn’t bother to ask or warn her before he undoes her bra, then drops his hands to her hips and his mouth to her shoulder while she slides the bra off and drops it on the ground. Martha kicks her shoes off and George steps back a fraction to do the same, returning to press up against her body as quickly as he can once they’re both barefoot.

“Halfway there, honey, still got these jeans on” Martha says pointedly, trying to turn around and face him. George grips her hips harder and stops her from moving, and she huffs out an annoyed sound. George hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her cheek as he pops the button and zip on her jeans.

“You wore my favorite pair of your jeans on purpose, didn’t you?” he murmers, and sees Martha smirk. “Wanted me to see Laurens dancing all over you while you wore these tight, sexy things, huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re ta-ah— talking about,” Martha responds, voice breaking in the middle when George slides a hand into her jeans and starts rubbing his fingers against her clit. His other hand returns to her breasts and Martha moans a little before finding her words. “Laundry day,” she pants, “this was the only pair clean.”

“Uh huh,” he says, amused and not buying that for a second, gazing down the line of her body and watching his own hand move under her jeans. “Lemme guess, laundry day’s also the reason you’re not wearing any panties?”

Martha rocks her hips forward, pressing into the movement of his fingers. “Nah,” she says, voice teasing again. “That I did on purpose.”

“Dirty girl,” George groans approvingly, and honestly that’s all the coaxing he needs to go ahead and start shoving her jeans down off her body.

“God, _thank you_ ,” Martha groans, kicking out of her jeans once they fall down around her legs. George smacks her bare ass once, not at full strength but not too lightly either, warning.

“You got a problem with my speed, woman?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Martha when she turns around to face him. She plants her hands on her hips and cocks her head at him, leveling him with an expression he knows all too well, the one that asks _am I supposed to be impressed, Washington_? George rolls his eyes.

“Y’know, it’s a little unfair how that look still works even when you’re naked,” he says, and then it’s Martha’s turn to roll her eyes.

“You’re the one who was all, ‘we gotta hurry up if we wanna get back to the house, darlin’ and then chased me back to the room,” she points out, deepening her voice and playing up a southern drawl when she imitates him. “Then we got here and you started feelin’ up on me all slow,” she continues. “Seems to me like you just need to make up your mind.”

George tries for about half a second to look stern but gives up when he realizes he’s just got the same goofy, amused and impressed smirk on his face that he almost always has when he’s looking at this ridiculous woman.

“Well in the interest of speeding things up, I guess I should take my clothes off now?” he teases, moving his hands down to the hem of his tshirt as slowly as possible and watching Martha’s eyes narrow. He’s just about to burst out laughing when she steps up to him and knocks his hands away, reaching down for herself and yanking the shirt up so quickly he doesn’t even know what’s hit him. He barely gets a chance to get his bearings after the shirt gets thrown off to the side before she’s dropping gracefully to her knees in front of him, taking the waistbands of both his pants and his boxers down with her all at once. He’s exposed immediately, dick hard and bobbing in front of her the second she gets rest of his clothes down around his thighs. She leaves them to fall on their own and barely even gives him time to kick them away before he feels her hand wrapping around his length, pumping him a couple of times, grip teasing and loose because the slide is too dry for anything else but not slow, because she’s made it very clear that slow is _not_ the way she wants to go right now. Well, if that’s the way she wants it, George can work with that.

He reaches down and threads a hand in her hair, pulling so that her head falls back and she has no choice but to look up at him. Her hand tightens on his cock rather than leaving it, and George hisses out a little noise but doesn’t chastise her. Her pupils are blown and she licks her lips as she stares up at him, waiting to hear what he has to say. Normally he’d let himself gaze back at her, revel for a few seconds in the surge of power that always threads through him when he’s got this strong, amazing woman totally captivated, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want him to waste any time tonight, so he starts talking as soon as their eyes lock.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he tells her, watching her chest heave as her breathing speeds up. “You’re gonna put that smart mouth to work and suck my dick like it’s your business. You’re gonna take it deep and you’re gonna take it fast, and maybe if you do it real good for me, I’ll stop you before I come down your throat and I’ll fuck you instead. Sound good, darlin’?”

Martha nods quickly, not even wincing when it makes his hand in her hair pull harder. He grips his dick in his free hand and runs a thumb over the head, catching the fluid there and rubbing it down over his shaft. His grip in Martha’s hair loosens enough to let her watch him, and after he’s gotten himself slicked up a little he moves his other hand to her hair too, nudging her head forward a little. “Let’s go sweetheart, you’re the one who didn’t wanna go slow,” he reminds her, and Martha takes a deep breath before she takes him into her mouth.

Things do speed up after that, something that George is thankful for since it means he gets to feel Martha’s hot mouth taking him in as deep as she can go over and over and over again. She’s got next to no gag reflex, he learned that early on in their relationship, and he’s willing to bet anything he owns that he’ll never be anything but grateful for that particular detail. He’s still got his hands in her hair, but he’s not pulling anymore, not even pushing, just kind of holding on for the ride as she throws herself into it, sucking his dick fast and eager like it’s her favorite thing in the world. He talks to her while she goes at it, tells her how good her mouth is and how sexy she looks on her knees for him, reminds her that she better keep it up if she wants him to really give it to her here in a minute. Martha moans around him and he feels himself getting close to the edge, hand tightening in her hair again so he can drag her off before he tips over it.

Martha pants up at him once he’s moved her away, and her mouth is so open and wet that George’s dick twitches, wanting to get back in there. Instead he moves his hands down to grip her shoulders, rumbles “come up here,” as he pulls her to her feet, hugs her tight against his body and claims her mouth with his own in a bruising kiss.

By the time they break apart, gasping, Martha’s got her arms thrown around his neck and is rubbing up against him. He tightens his arms around her and breathes through the feeling of her body against his, blown away as always by the fact of how good she feels. “Bed, George, c’mon,” she whispers hurriedly, trying to tug him that direction.

George shakes his head and catches her around the waist with one arm, holding her in place while he reaches over to his desk drawer and snags a condom. Once he’s got one he starts walking them in the other direction, walking backwards back towards his bedroom door and pulling Martha along with him, chuckling a little at the confused look on her face.

“I’ve got another idea,” he tells her, spinning them around once they reach the other side of the room and pushing her up against the door. He moves in close immediately, crowds her with his size and closes her in the way she likes him to. He kisses her again, hard, and bites her lower lip to make her whimper when he ends the kiss.

“Bet they’re having that meeting in the lounge right now, baby girl,” he mutters against her mouth, voice low. “Think if I fuck you right here against this door good enough to make you scream that they’ll be able to hear you all the way downstairs?”

To her credit, Martha doesn’t waste any time looking shocked at the implication, just smiles sweetly as she reaches down and snags the condom out of his hand, opening the packet and tossing it aside to be picked up later. “Let’s find out,” she says with a wicked smile as she reaches down to roll the condom onto his dick. George huffs out a steadying breath at the feeling of her hand settling the condom into place and stroking him. He only lets her pump him a couple of times before swatting her hand away and getting a grip on her thighs, hoisting her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks once their balance settles, moving a hand to slide two fingers into her immediately, making her gasp and grind down against him. “Yeah,” he growls, drawing the syllable out as he pumps his fingers. “ _That’s_ my girl. Nice and wet for me, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

“Yes, God, yes, _always_ ” Martha whines, hips rolling slowly against the movement of his fingers. “Give me your cock, George, stop fucking _teasing_ me already.”

George grips his dick and lines up, pushes into her the first few inches and waits, trying to let her adjust, but Martha’s not having any of it. She pushes her shoulders back against the door and her hips forward, trying to force him in deeper, and George adjusts his grip on her ass and thighs, digging his fingers in like a warning.

“Fine,” he growls. “Impatient little....” He trails off as he thrusts into her deep, pinning her against the door even tighter, burying himself into her heat.

“Fuck, _yes_!” she cries out, voice loud and tone thankful when he sets a fast and hard pace immediately.

George knows she’ll be sore tomorrow; she always is after she goads him into giving it to her like this, but he also knows she won’t complain about it other than to tease him. She doesn’t keep it a secret that she likes the ache that comes with still being able to feel him the next day, so he pushes his more tender instincts away for the time being - _be gentle later, Washington_ \- and concentrates on fucking her hard enough that the door at her back rattles in its frame.

Martha’s pretty painted nails rake over his back and shoulders, her head tips back against the door and her eyes squeeze shut as she continues calling out, yelling a litany of “yes” and “fuck” and his name, along with a healthy number of pet names. George leans in and bites at her neck again, nipping at the large bruise he left earlier before moving on to leave smaller ones on several unmarked areas of skin.

“That’s a good girl,” he mutters against her collarbone, both of them overheated and sweating and loving it. “Shout about it, baby. Let ‘em all know how good I’m doin’.”

He has no idea if the guys can actually hear her all the way downstairs or not, but the encouragement does the trick and Martha keeps it up, praising him to high heaven while he pounds into her and chases his release. The screams trail off a little once he really hits his rhythm, but they’re replaced by near-constant whines and mumbled encouragements, her volume spiking up every now and again when he hits the spot just right. When he feels himself getting close he shifts his grip on her, hoisting her up a little higher and making sure she’s balanced and steady so she won’t have to hesitate on what he’s about to ask of her.

“Martha, baby,” he says, having to raise his voice a little just to be heard over all the noise she’s making. Her eyes open and catch his, locking their gazes as she silently questions his reason for getting her attention. He rolls his neck and shoulders a little in answer, shaking her hands where they’re gripping at his skin, encouraging her to drop them down. “Touch yourself, pretty girl. I ain’t gonna last much longer, wanna feel you, yeah?”

Martha looks nervous, overwhelmed for a second, and she doesn’t even have to say what she’s thinking for him to know. He chuckles as he leans in and kisses her in reassurance. “I ain’t gonna drop you, honey,” he says against her mouth. “Now touch yourself for me.”

Martha nods hurriedly and takes a deep breath, taking her hands away from his skin and moving them down over her own body instead. One settles at her breasts, squeezing the way George did earlier before plucking at those damn gorgeous rings that make her nipples so much more sensitive than they would be without them. Her other hand moves all the way down to her clit, rubbing in tight little circles just above where George is still slamming into her, and he feels the slide getting even easier as she gets a little wetter, feels the muscles inside her body tensing and getting tighter around him as they both get closer and closer.

“Let ‘em hear you, remember,” he reminds her when he can tell he’s only got a few thrusts left before he explodes. Puts the growl in his voice that always drives her crazy and talks her to the edge. “Your little boy toy Laurens is downstairs and I want him to know who you belong to. Want him to hear you come all over my fuckin’ cock.”

Martha’s head thumps back against the door and her back bows towards him in a deep arch as the combination of her fingers, his thrusts, and his words send her over the edge, screaming out his name louder than she ever has before. George follows her, burying himself deep and filling the condom, holding her up against the door as they both come down from the high. Once their breathing slows a little he places a firm kiss to her forehead and then lifts her up slightly while he pulls out, setting her down on her feet after. Martha sweeps her hair back away from her face and looks up at him, breaking into a sunny smile when she catches his eye.

“Well damn,” she says, sounding breathless and impressed, and he laughs.

“My thoughts exactly,” he chuckles, turning away to get the condom off and tossed into the trashcan in the corner of the room. “Shower?” he asks over his shoulder, already digging through his dresser drawer and pulling out a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt.

Martha hums in agreement and grabs two towels off the shelf in his closet, wrapping one around her body and handing him the other in exchange for the t-shirt and a kiss. She reaches back into the closet on her way towards the door, snagging one of the extra pairs of panties she keeps in the room off the shelf below the towels, the one she claimed for herself the second he moved into the house. George smiles and wraps his own towel around his waist, then follows her out of the room and down the hallway to the communal bathroom that serves all the guys who live on his floor of the house.

They shower pretty efficiently despite having their hands all over each other. They’re sated enough for now that the touch is nice and intimate but not overly sexual, and George mentally flips off all the guys he knows who would crack jokes about them being like an old married couple. Martha soaps up George’s chest and stomach and comments on how the scent of his preferred brand of body wash is still her favorite thing even though he’s been wearing the same one since high school. George returns the favor by washing her hair while she leans back against his chest and sighs. They dry off once they finish, George stepping into his shorts and Martha pulling on her panties and George’s shirt. The shirt is huge on her, like all his clothes are, and George takes a minute to feel smug about the fact that he accomplished his mission and the bigger hickey he left on her shows dark and huge above the neckline. Martha catches the line of his gaze and presses her fingertips into the mark, rolling her eyes fondly at him as she makes her way back down the hall to the bedroom.

“You know I love you, right?” he asks as they settle down in bed, him on his back with her cuddled up against his side, an arm and a leg draped over him while she lays on his chest. It’s the same thing he always asks – almost never outright states it, always makes it a question, and Martha shakes her head in amusement the same way she has for years.

“I know,” she responds, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you too.” There’s a little bit of a rasp creeping into her voice when she says it, and while it could just be sleep overtaking her, George is almost a hundred percent certain it’s a product of their earlier activities.

He places a kiss to the top of Martha’s head and smiles at the ceiling as he drifts off to sleep.

—

Martha doesn’t even have to open her eyes the next morning to know that she’s woken up far, far too early. She opens them anyway, gazing around George’s darkened bedroom and listening to his deep, even breathing from where he’s pressed up behind her, one heavy arm draped over her waist as they lay on their sides. His hand is up underneath the hem of her borrowed t-shirt, resting over her belly, and a half-formed thought of the future floats through her mind before she shakes it away, mentally chiding herself for being such a sap. She clears her throat quietly, wincing when she feels the tenderness there as a result of both the blowjob and all the yelling last night.

 _Alright_ , she thinks, _you can make it without waking him. Just go for it_.

She rolls back towards him, ending up on her back, and the movement registers enough that he scoots back away from her a little in his sleep, giving her the opportunity she needs to slide out of bed and pad across the floor in bare feet. She’s almost at the door when she hears his sleep-roughened – _sexy_ , her inner voice helpfully supplies – voice behind her.

“Martha?” he asks, sounding confused. She turns on her heel and looks back at the bed where he’s propped up on an elbow, watching her. “Where’re you goin’, baby?”

“Downstairs to make some tea,” Martha admits, cringing a little when her voice comes out sounding even more wrecked than she anticipated, barely audible. George wakes up quickly at the sound, throwing the covers off and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Well I’m comin’ with you, then,” he says, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his palms. He yawns as he stands up and makes his way across the room, tips her chin up with a finger and smiles sleepily down at her. “What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t escort my lady in such a noble quest?” he jokes, and Martha rolls her eyes.

“The kind who makes me need the tea in the first place by encouraging me to choke on his dick and then makes me scream while he fucks me?” she asks teasingly, reaching around to pinch his ass and laughing at the exaggerated expression of open-mouthed shock he gives her in response.

“Why, Martha Dandridge,” he drawls in a high-pitched parody of a ‘scandalized old southern woman’ voice, moving around her to open the door and walking backwards down the hallway so he can look at her while he flutters his hands and eyes at her in mock-horror. “What a _mouth_ you have on you, child!”

“I happen to know for a fact that you love my mouth, Washington,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out. George turns around to face the right way at that, and both of them are grinning when they hit the stairs, Martha enjoying the view as she watches the muscles in his broad back while he walks.

Halfway down the stairs they run into John and Laf, and Martha fights the urge to cover her mouth and laugh at the sight. Laf is carrying a tired and frankly startled-looking John up the stairs in their arms, and when Laf and George catch sight of each other, they both come to a stop, just staring at one another like they’d forgotten anybody else lived in the house and could potentially run into them at this hour.

“Yo, I don’t even want to know,” George says after a moment of awkward silence, during which Martha’s mind decides to take in the sight of a now embarrassed John and remind her vividly of some of the things that George had said last night.

She suddenly becomes very conscious of the fact that she’s wearing George’s shirt and no pants, and that more than one of the marks George left on her last night – including the absolutely monster hickey that she’s going to have no chance in hell of ever covering up – are on display. Unfortunately, Laf takes the opportunity to look her up and down as well, grinning like a loon and winking at George.

“Yo, I _do_ even want to know,” Laf returns, mimicking George’s tone as well as they can with their accent. George shakes his head and rolls his eyes, looking back at her and raising an eyebrow to indicate that it’s up to her if she wants to share any particular details. She shakes her head as well, sharper than George had, a definite _no_.

“Don’t you dare,” she says, not even sure which of them she’s addressing at this point, just wanting all of them to go about their business so she can get her tea and maybe go back to bed for a few more hours. John laughs out loud when her voice comes out in a whispery rasp, both his and Laf’s eyes lighting up when they hear it because they clearly have some ideas as to how it got that way, and most likely the correct ones. George laughs too, throwing a wink at John and Laf, and Martha barely has time to glare at him before he’s turning around and sweeping her off her feet – literally – to cradle her in his arms the same way Laf is carrying John.

“Can’t be having you one up me, Laurens,” he says, inclining his head towards John, who looks honestly a little frightened at his words. Martha blushes again, hiding her face in George’s neck and vowing that she’ll get him back for that later.

John and Laf head up the stairs and George carries her the rest of the way down, not stopping until they get to the kitchen. He sits her up on the counter and makes the tea for her, even unearthing a half-full bottle of honey from one of the busted up cabinets to put in it.

“Mad at me for teasing Laurens like that?” he asks, leaning on the counter next to her as he hands her the cup. Martha mulls the question over for a second as she blows some of the steam away from the cup and takes the first drink. The tea hits her throat and soothes it almost immediately, and she practically groans at the feeling. George might be an ass sometimes, but he knows how to take care of her.

“I think,” she says, voice already a little stronger, “you can be forgiven this time. If only because you make a good cup of tea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me talking about Hamilton/In the Heights on tumblr @regards-to-abigail  
> Catch me talking about millions of other fandoms on tumblr @stutter-startle


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